


The Heat of the Moment

by thebananahasspoken



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Foul Language, Good relationship, I promise, Knotting, Monster Heat, NSFW, Rough Sex, Sex, Soulmates, Swapfell Papyrus - Freeform, not as terrible as it seems, sinning, sinning extraordinaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:49:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10043405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebananahasspoken/pseuds/thebananahasspoken
Summary: You knew you were in trouble the moment that you saw the fifteen missed calls on your cell phone.You’d told Papyrus you were going to be out late that evening, knowing that he was in a state and that he had asked to know where you were at all times, so he could be prepared to come to your gallant and completely unnecessary rescue the moment he deemed it necessary.But your plans had been extended by unforeseen circumstances, completely outside your control (namely, a very drunk friend that needed help home), and you hadn’t had time to tell your bony, out of his mind boyfriend what you were up to.Apparently, if you got the message from his twenty-two, progressively more aggressive texts, he wasn’t pleased with your forgetfulness.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Art trade with a lovely person, @dancingxflames, on Tumblr! Hope you enjoy, and mind the tags!

* * *

You knew you were in trouble the moment that you saw the fifteen missed calls on your cell phone.

You’d told Papyrus you were going to be out late that evening, knowing that he was in a state and that he had asked to know where you were at all times, so he could be prepared to come to your gallant and completely unnecessary rescue the moment he deemed it necessary.

But your plans had been extended by unforeseen circumstances, completely outside your control (namely, a very drunk friend that needed help home), and you hadn’t had time to tell your bony, out of his mind boyfriend what you were up to.

Apparently, if you got the message from his twenty-two, progressively more aggressive texts, he wasn’t pleased with your forgetfulness.

Papyrus was far from an obsessive monster, on any normal occasion. He was laid back and incredibly indolent, preferring taking naps over nearly any other activity besides reading. Even in bed, the monster couldn’t be bothered with expending effort, often letting you take the top so he could watch you pleasure yourself with his bony body and help stroke you into orgasm with a slow, languid thumb to your clit.

The only thing he ever seemed to get excited enough about to put in any effort towards was creating elaborate, over the top pranks, and you had to admit, when the intelligent monster bent his considerable mind towards something, the results were truly incredible. This aggravated his brother to no end, especially since the taller monster was the stronger of the two and Sans considered his laziness a waste of his potential, but Papyrus was content.

Lately, though (the past week, to be precise), Papyrus had changed, to put things bluntly. He had so much energy that he barely slept, he hadn’t picked up a book in days, he’d become almost aggressive, his voice deepening and rumbling with growls, and the way he watched you… you felt like prey, every time you went over to see him, his gaze sharp and hot and wanting despite his denials of your sexual advances, insisting that you keep your distance beyond a few chaste kisses.

He’d explained it away as a consequence of an odd moon cycle, bringing on a season of high emotions and surging magic that all monsters went through every few years (you’d had a feeling that it was more than that, given the animalistic, desperate sounds you’d heard from Sans’ bedroom when you’d walked past it, but your tall, sharp boyfriend refused to elaborate), so you’d been willing to indulge his requests to know what you were doing all day.

Clearly, he’d been more serious about that then you’d thought, considering the one, flashing icon of a voicemail you had yet to check, sitting in your car outside the skeleton brothers’ dark home. Papyrus never left voicemails, he despised the process, so he must have either been desperate to talk to you…

Or very, very angry.

Swallowing against your suddenly dry tongue (why were you scared? He’d never hurt you, he was just being affected by the moon… or whatever), you pressed the letter icon and held your phone to your ear, staring down the streetlamp lit street blankly as you waited.

The mailbox blipped, telling you that you had one unheard message in a calm, soothing female voice, but the voice that followed hers was anything but, a long, low growl preceding your lover’s message.

“ _ it’s now been forty-seven minutes since you said you’d be done. no call, no text,  _ _ **nothing.** _ _ if i haven’t heard anything by eleven, i’m coming to look for you. you won’t like it if i do _ ,” he snarled through the phone, the most threatening and dangerous he had ever sounded, and without preamble or further explanation, the line went dead, the female voice announcing the end of the voice message.

Alarmed and a little scared (you knew he was likely just worried, sounding far rougher than he had intended, with his skewed emotions and unstable magic), you checked the time on your phone before hurriedly scrambling from the car and skittering up the sidewalk in front of the large house.

10:59… you needed to catch him before he teleported away and got even angrier when he didn’t find you at the bar, and they told him you’d left nearly an hour before.

You reached the door just as the clock turned, throwing it wide and looking around the living room in a fair panic, and spotted Papyrus seated on the couch, his boots propped on the top of the coffee table and the end of a cigarette burning bright in the dark room. His magical gaze was brighter by far, locking on you the moment that you appeared, and his fangs, glinting with gold and sparks of rusty orange magic, were bared, bearing witness to his obvious ire.

He said nothing, only exhaling a cloud of thick smoke and watching you through narrowed, angry sockets, his hands, inserted in his brown leather jacket’s pockets, clenching visibly through the material.

The pithy comment you had had prepared, an attempt at a joke on the tip of your tongue, withered into nothing, the weight of his gaze and his temper lowering your shoulders into meek surrender (he must be truly pissed, to dare to smoke inside; he knew Sans hated it), and you pushed the door closed behind yourself before approaching him, slipping your phone into a back pocket and twisting your hands together nervously.

“Listen, baby, I’m…” you started, coming to a halt a few feet from his side, but he interrupted you with a feral growl, his bony lip curling over his cigarette.

“you’re what? you’re  _ sorry _ ? i sure fucking hope so,” he growled, and slammed his boots onto the ground before pushing himself up from the couch, rising to tower over you menacingly. He bent to push his face close to yours, sneering furiously.

“you said you’d be back at ten. you  _ said _ you’d tell me when you left, that you were just with some friends… and yet you come crawling back an hour late, with no notice… and smelling like a human male,” he muttered, his bony brow furrowing, and you leaned backwards in alarm, raising your hands in defense of your actions.

He could smell that? You’d only touched Brad long enough to help him stagger to and from your car…

“Papy, I meant to call, and was planning to leave at ten, but one of my friends needed help home! He was drunk, he didn’t have money for a cab, and I didn’t trust that he could make it back on his own safely. I’m really sorry, I really am,” you explained hurriedly, backing up a step when he advanced one, and though something that looked like relief swept across his face, more expressive in his surging emotions, he held onto his anger, reaching up to pull his cigarette from between his sharpened teeth.

“a likely story. i try to protect you from my heat, try to keep my fragile little human safe, but you just can’t help yourself. can’t wait two weeks, can’t help but need to get  _ fucked _ . so you got your dick somewhere else,” he accused, flicking the butt of his cigarette into the already full ashtray on the coffee table (cinders spilled onto the top; Sans was going to be so pissed), and you took another step back, blinking rapidly in your confusion.

Heat? What was that? He had said he was just going through a moon thing, what was he talking about, beyond his completely unreasonable jealousy?

“Baby… I wouldn’t do that to you, you know I wouldn’t… you’re just upset by the moon phase, you need some rest…” you prompted, noting the dark circles under his sockets, but Papyrus scoffed, following your retreat with long, angry steps, the many zippers and straps on his fashionable, tight pants jingling ominously.

“i don’t need a _damn_ thing but what you’re apparently handing out for free to everyone at your precious little bar. is he better than me? huh? does he fuck you how you really want it? get tired of me, wanted something on the rougher side?” he demanded, stalking your escape like a hungry animal, and much to your alarm and dread, backed you into the corner next to the front door, trapping you between the edge of a large bookcase and the wall.

He slammed his hands on either side of you, the shadows that fell from his height covering his face and casting it into demonic, intimidating darkness, and bent over your shrinking form slowly, his hollow chest rumbling with snarls and growls.

“i can give you that, if it’s what you’re looking for.”

His accusations were becoming too much for you. It hurt, beyond your instinctual fear of his animalistic demeanor, and before you could stop yourself, before you could think better of insulting the, frankly, terrifying monster menacing you, you glared up at him and slapped him across the face, tears of anger and fear both beading in your eyes (the pain that flashed through your palm from striking the hard surface was insignificant, the meaning behind the action was what mattered).

“You’re being a real asshole right now, Papyrus. I thought you trusted me more than this, that I could leave you alone for an evening and not have you assume I’m whoring around,” you snapped at him, drawing your hand back to your chest when his expression, flashing with surprise for a moment, darkened even further into terrible retribution, and above you, frustration and anger clashing in his gaze, Papyrus glowered, his half-gloved hands curling into fists against the wall.

“you think i don’t know that? you think i wanna treat you like this? i know i can trust you. i  _ know _ you’d never… but my fucking… i can’t get my fucking head straight. i can’t think of anything right now but how guilty you look… how much you smell like another male… how bad i wanna show you who you  _ **belong** _ to…” he growled, trembling in what looked like restraint, and it was then that you realized that he was sweating, thick drops of orange magic rolling down his skull and staining the neckline of his sweater.

He was drooling slightly, too, a trail of rust colored saliva leaking from his fangs to drip from his mandible, and standing out against the crotch of his tight pants, blatant and impossible to miss from your closeness, was an erection so hard his zipper was stretching out. Before you could even consider  _ that _ , though, you were hit with a wave of his breath, a heavy exhalation of irritation and control washing over your face. 

Beyond the smell of his cigarette (which was incredibly thick... had he been chain smoking again? Poor Papy... He'd been working on quitting, too, before tonight...) and a waft of whiskey, seeming to seep from his bones themselves, was a musk you had never smelled on him before, sweet and heavy in the air between the two of you.

When you took a moment to take a deep breath of it, you felt your head grow lighter, your blood alight with the fire of incredible, sudden arousal, and your abdomen clench, surging with desire.

You let out a tiny gasp, your eyes widening and rising to meet his intense, hungry gaze, abrupt revelation pressing at the forefront of your mind.

You remembered this sensation, from when you were taking a monster studies class at college. A test tube of a sparkling, deep purple liquid had been shown around the lab by the professor, who had warned the female students to take only a brief, light breath of it, and when you had done so, you had felt just like this, suddenly extremely turned on and soaking through your panties entirely by the end of class.

One of the students had taken a far too deep breath, and had fainted entirely, later talking in a hushed voice to the rest of the girls in class about dreams she had had of a large monster, made entirely of purple fire, that had made love to her for  _ days _ , in her mind.

The vial, as explained by the teacher, contained the liquefied and distilled pheromones of a male monster at the peak of its mating cycle (“If this had been the full strength of the magic donated by the monster, we would have had an orgy on our hands; Grillby Ignis is a very powerful being, unmated and virile, and has seduced those of greater will than any of you, believe me.”), designed to draw in potential mates and entice them into breeding with him.

This occurred very infrequently, only every four years, in the lives of monsters, but extended for a period of weeks, during which monsters would expend all the magic they had been saving for just that reason and often create their young.

You had forgotten about this occurrence, at the time never thinking you would be involved enough with a monster to have to worry about its mating season, but here you were, breathing in the very same scent (though entwined with the scent of bone and his magic and something spicy, like barbeque sauce, rather than wood smoke and ignition fuel), held under the clearly lustful but still very angry gaze of your monster boyfriend.

Was… was he in his breeding cycle? Was that what all this was about?

Your momentary anger faded into curiosity, and no small amount of interest, at your discoveries (likely the pheromones, working on your mind and spinning it into favorable consideration), and you reached out habitually, not to strike your seething, shuddering lover again, but to touch his cheekbone lightly, stroking the cracked bone under his left eye socket.

“Papy… what did you mean, you were protecting me from your heat? What is that?” you asked softly, and a surge of different emotions cascaded over his face in that moment, ricocheting from shock to dread to hope to  _ need _ , and then quickly back to dread, his steps quick as he backed away from you and your extended hand, which he had been nuzzling into unconsciously.

“ _ no _ . no, no, i didn’t say anything. you should go, before… you need to  _ go _ ,” he urged in a snarl, turning his back and striding across the room towards the half open door to his personal library, likely intending to shut himself within, but you ran after him after recovering from his sudden departure, grabbing onto his arm before he could disappear.

“Papyrus, stop it! Just tell me, so I… so I can…” you started, though you stuttered over your offer, unsure of what exactly you were getting into, and Papyrus stopped in his tracks, his shoulders hunching and his magic flaring, before he turned on you in a flash, grabbing the tops of your arms and spinning you face first against the wall next to the library door.

He bent over you, pressing his sharpened teeth against your ear but purposefully keeping his body away from yours despite his closeness; even with the space between you, you could feel the heat coming off of him, almost feverish.

“so you can what, babe? hmm? what do you know about a monster’s heat?  _ nothing _ . you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. you don’t know that i’ve done nothing but think of a way to try to have you, just  _ once _ , to take the edge off, even though i  _ know _ once would never be enough. you don’t know that the smell of you, even from across a room, has me reeling,” he growled rabidly, panting against the side of your face and trembling so hard he was shaking you slightly; his breath was humid, rife with his pheromones and his desperation, and you found, in that moment, that your voice had failed you.

You couldn’t speak, your heart in your throat and your legs quaking and your mind a fuzz of shocked arousal and cautious ambivalence; all you could feel was him, the waves of heat and lust rolling off of him and the hardness of his hands on your shoulders and his forcefully held back instincts, the need that drove him to mindless jealousy and possessiveness.

He went on while you floundered in the enormity of your matched struggle, his hands loosening from your shoulders and dipping to trace down your sides almost unconsciously, sharp phalanges pulling at your clothes and pressing into your abdomen; you felt the slick wetness of his long, tapered, pierced tongue stroke up your jawline, the scrape of his golden canines against your flesh.

You shivered, your confused, chemically affected mind and your instinctual response to his dominance sending jolts of need and washes of excitement straight between your legs.

“i could smell your desire, every time you tried to come onto me… i nearly fucked you in the middle of the damn grocery store when you bent over to tie your fucking shoelace, it’s that damn bad. and that was on day  _ one _ . you don’t know what i would do to you, if i let you help me,” he warned in a far lower, far smoother tone, husky from want and a seduction you were certain he didn’t intend to use; his hands traveled lower, alighting on your hips and sneaking the tips of his fingers under your sweater to trace over your too hot, too sensitive flesh.

You let out the tiniest moan, when he touched your bare skin, and the growl he let out in response was both terrifying and arousing, surreal and exciting.

“i could probably kill you, literally fuck you to death, when i’m like this. i’m not capable of being careful. i’m a fucking beast, a rutting, horny animal desperate to stuff a female with my seed, and you ever so casually offering to be that unfortunate female…” he uttered against your flesh, though he sounded less like he was warning you away now and instead simply telling you of what was to come, his mouth moving to your neck to puff hot, strained breaths and trail the tip of his languid tongue down the column of your throat, towards the scarred bite mark that he had left on your shoulder the first night you had spent with him.

His hands pulled you, slow but insistent, against his crotch, the hard, searing length of his cock pressing against your lower back; he somehow felt larger, than he normally was (and that was saying something, considering your bony boyfriend was already very sizable, so much so that you couldn’t fit the entirety of his dick inside you without pain), but it didn’t occur to you to be afraid, lost to the flood of desire that was throbbing between your legs and the instinctual arch your hips moved into, your legs straightening and your stature lowering to rub your backside against the bulge you needed,  _ needed _ , inside you.

You’d never felt this hot and needy before… all you could think of was getting him off, joining his body with yours, assuaging the pulsing, dripping desire that currently consumed your burning, clenching core.

Your professor hadn’t been lying… those pheromones were  _ incredibly _ strong.

“Yes… yes,  _ please _ … Papyrus…” you whimpered, bucking back into him in blind invitation, cast adrift in the sea that was your hormones and the beckoning of his allure, and you felt him stiffen, against your back, felt him still and tighten, like he was readying to pounce, before he shoved himself away from you entirely, leaving you cold and protesting and wanting against the wall.

He fled across the room, putting his favorite armchair between the two of you in his attempt to distance himself from you; he looked starved and desperate, even from his haven, his claws scraping along the back of his chair, bone on leather, and his jaws dripping with liquid desire and his sockets glowing with the intense fire of his magic, far brighter than you had ever seen before.

He looked like he was in  _ agony _ , his fangs clenched and his brows furrowed, but he held out a shaking hand when you tried again to go to him, the growls already rolling in his chest surging in warning.

“no.  _ no _ , you have to get away while i’m still in my right mind,” he practically begged, though even his dismissal sounded like an invitation, attesting to his need for you to do the exact opposite, to  _ stay _ and be  _ his _ , and even knowing that he was trying to protect you, that he was trying to keep from harming you, you still took another step towards him.

Still persisted, as your fear warred with your desperate desire and your need to help your lover in his time of trouble and suffering.

“Papyrus, please… there must be something I can do to help you. You’re hurting, I can tell…” you offered in a plaintive whisper, taking yet another step, your heart beating through your chest in your lust, nervousness, and pain all (you couldn’t stand seeing him like this…), but Papyrus, a surge of panic flashing across his face, hissed and snapped his fangs in agitation, shaking his head in denial even as his gaze, sharp and quick and  _ longing _ , dropped to your breasts, tongue slavering from behind his teeth.

He was trapped, chained between what his body desired and what he knew was right, and it was tearing him apart.

“did you not hear me, woman? you’re messin' with shit you don’t understand. staying true to you but refusing to have you has me on the edge every second of the day. i can’t sleep, because no matter how many times i wash my sheets, your scent won’t leave them. i’ve had a fucking erection for a week, no matter how many times i jerk off, and you staying here, offering yourself to me… i’m losing my damn mind!” he barked, his claws digging into and ripping the back of his chair, and though you flinched at his raised voice, his harshness and his biting tone, you knew he was just afraid, that he wouldn’t be doing any of this if he didn’t truly believe that you would come to harm at his hands, and so your feet moved forwards once more, your eyes blurring with tears and your resolve burning in your chest.

“Then… then wouldn’t it be better if I slept with you? Wouldn’t it help?” you queried tremulously, your hands clenching at your sides and your breaths shallow and quick and your head quirking to the side to shake a lock of sodden hair from your eyes (you were sweating almost as much as he was, in your anxiousness and your desire for him), and Papyrus, his sockets widening, made a lurching motion towards you, hunger in the line of his crazed, dripping grin.

He only barely held himself back, gripping his armchair so hard that his phalanges creaked audibly, cracking and straining in his restraint. His gaze was hard, sardonic, and almost violent, now, anger sparking in his sockets.

“better?  _ better _ ?! you think i wanna hurt you? you think i want your fucking blood on my hands, because you thought you were smart and got in over your head?! if i take you even once, my control will be  **gone** . i will be incapable of letting you go, and i need, i  _ need _ , to fuck when i’m like this. i’m not talking once or twice. it will be ten times a day, at  _ least _ , for the next six days. think you can handle that?” he snapped bitterly, clearly rhetorical in his questioning, but even though you were intimidated by the amount he had said (dear  _ gods _ , that was a lot of sex… you were fairly sure you didn’t have that much in a year), you kept your head high, firming your lips and straightening your back.

“I… I… I could. For you,” you insisted, coming even with the arm of the chair that he was hiding behind, and Papyrus let out a sound somewhere between a grunt and a whimper, his breath panting from him in nearly visible clouds and his hips making seemingly unconscious motions against the back of his armchair. He was drooling again, and staring between your face and body with an intensity that bordered on physicality, and trembling so hard the zippers on his pants and jacket were jingling.

He breathed out a loud, shaky breath before answering, his voice softened in gratitude but still sharp, still warning you away.

“you’re playing with fire, sweetheart... you  _ will _ get hurt. and that’ll hurt me. it’s too much for you,” he asserted, reminding himself the same as he was attempting to dissuade you, but you could feel his will weakening, could see that he was close to his breaking point (in more than one way; his bones were rattling audibly, in his shaking), and so persisted, the emotive tears beaded in your eyes slipping down your cheeks unheeded. 

“Well... would it be… constant? The sex,” you asked carefully, mind turning to try to turn this to both of your advantages, and Papyrus, from his self made fortress of restraint, jerked his head side to side stiffly, his sockets lowering to follow the path of your tears.

He reached out a tremulous, careful hand, thumbing them from your skin gently, and though he clearly attempted to pull back afterwards, continued stroking your cheek, lost to the feel of your flesh on his bones.

“no. i will need to rest after, but it won’t be for long. an hour at most, before i would be ready again, and compelled to breed you just as hard, and just as long, as the time before. the call of my magic is too powerful, sugar. i’m surprised i made it this long without tracking you down and fucking you on a sidewalk, in front of the stars and the rest of the world,” he muttered ruefully, his thumb sweeping the length of your jaw to, softly, trace your lower lip, and you leaned into his touch, looking up at him with hope as an idea, a crazy but plausible idea, formed in your mind.

“Couldn’t we restrain you, then, in between? Keep the sessions to just a few a day, so you don’t hurt me, but I get to help you take the edge off? Would that help?” you offered, eager to ease his pain (and to assuage the burning need in your blood; god damn, but you wanted him), and Papyrus, hand stilling on your skin, stared at you with intense, wanting reluctance, clearly tempted.

He thought about it for a long, long moment, licking at his fangs and tapping his claws on the back of his torn, stuffing strewn armchair; he was clearly leaning towards accepting, though he knew he shouldn't, whining in the back of his skull in longing and panting through his nasal cavity.

He swallowed heavily against the drool now dripping nearly constantly from his jaws, sockets burning wildly and bones hot against your skin... and finally spoke.

“…there’s still danger. once i’ve had you, i’ll be lost to my instincts. i’ll try to convince you that i was mistaken, that you should free me. that you did so well, that you can handle more. the pheromones'll be stronger.  _ i _ … will be stronger,” he warned in a hushed, strained voice, though even that was flush with desire and hunger, and you nodded immediately, excitement flooding you and running hot through your blood. 

You rubbed your cheek against his palm, looking up at him with a bright, thrilled smile.

“I’ll resist. I promise,” you whispered, kissing his fingertips and gazing up at him through your eyelashes, raising your own hand to touch the back of his, to stroke the cuff of his jacket, and he nearly choked on his breath, a growl rumbling through his rib cage and his fingers sneaking past your lips, stroking the tip of your tongue and flushing a dark, flustered orange when you sucked them invitingly.

“if i agree to this, you have... ahh... to _swear_ that you won’t take more than two cycles a day, and that you’ll leave entirely on the thirteenth day, and go somewhere i don’t know, so i can’t teleport to it. it’s the last, and heaviest, day of my season, and... a-and i don’t trust myself not to try to break the bonds entirely,” he forced out through his heavy breaths, watching your mouth with a rapture that bordered on obsession, and you sucked one last time at his phalanges before releasing them, biting your lower lip and flushing prettily in your arousal.

“I swear, baby. Anything you want. I just can’t stand seeing you like this… I  _ have _ to help you,” you pressed, scooting a step closer, around the edge of the chair, to slide your arms around his narrow hips; he withheld a moment longer, leaning back from you an iota in his last measure of control, before he let go, falling into you and hugging you against his hard, sweaty body and bending to bury his face in your neck, breathing in your scent desperately.

His hands were vices, around your waist and stroking your upper back, and his breath was a furnace, when he breathed out his last haggard, weak complaints against your throat,

“this is a bad idea. i don’t know why i’m letting you talk me into this. …well, i know why, but i don’t like it,” he groaned, circling his hips against your abdomen and licking your sweat from your skin, and you shuddered against him, your head leaning back and lips gaping with a small moan of satisfaction.

Even as he clutched at you, though, you could feel him holding back, fighting himself, and though you tried to encourage him, undulating your body against his and trying to pull him down into a kiss, he still pulled away from you, looking unsteadily into your eyes and gritting his teeth.

“the safe word is tuba. it’ll buy you enough time to bind me, the first few days, if you get overwhelmed,” he insisted, grasping wildly at his resistance, and you let out a sigh, stepping out of his reach to pull your sweater over your head completely, throwing it to the floor and looking back to your bony lover with a come hither expression, tossing your mussed hair from your face and smiling invitingly.

“I’ll remember, baby. Now stop stalling, and come get me,” you purred as confidently as you could manage, raising a hand to stroke along your bared abdomen tantalizingly, and before you could blink he was on you, his large hands clasping around your waist and his momentum carrying you backwards, across the room and back against the wall he had held you against only moments before.

His mouth sealed to yours, ravenous as he devoured your lips and thrust his dripping, pierced tongue into your mouth, just as his body laid along yours, his bones pressing into your flesh through his clothes and the strong, nearly overpowering scent of his pheromones, heavy with sex and ardor, stealing away your every remaining qualm (to be honest, there weren't many left) and his restrained cock, hard and throbbing against your stomach, invading your mind unequivocally.

Papyrus was a monster starved, as he thrust against you single-mindedly and stole your breath and touched every inch of your skin that he could reach; he pushed at the waistline of your pants and struggled with the clasp of your bra, needy and grasping and panting. You helped him divest your flesh of its remaining coverings, stumbling as you kicked off your shoes and only barely withholding a giggle at his fervor, but only when you were naked before him did he pull back to look at you, your clothes littered around your feet thoughtlessly.

His sockets burned with his approval and his ceaseless lust, his hands worshipful as they cupped your breasts, stroked your throat and abdomen, clutched your hips and ass; he pressed himself against the length of you, one hand sliding down the inside of your thigh to lift your leg around one bony hip and spread you for him, his erection pushing, hot and heavy and enticing, to your already wet folds through his pants.

“i’ve never wanted anything as bad as i’ve wanted your body the past week, honey… i’ve craved you like a fucking  _ drug _ ,” he crooned raspily, his need an audible note in his quaking voice as he pressed open mouthed, wet, lingering kisses to your bared throat; he ground against you haplessly, lost in the feeling of you, so soft and warm, and it was all you could do to hang on to him, your hands clutching at his shoulders through his leather jacket and your head falling back to allow him access to your neck and your back arching, a pagan offering to your god of sex and magic and pleasure.

Your moans, your keening whimpers of desperate lust as he moved between your legs and licked a trail of rapture up your neck, were his undoing; he let out a voracious snarl, an animal tempted too far with its favorite meal, and broke from you, hands moving to prop on the wall over your shoulders and his gaze sparking with his desire.

“on your knees. you’re gonna suck me off before i wreck your beautiful body,” he commanded, no hesitation or question in his licentious demand, but you had no argument to offer anyway, just as lost to your precipitous yearning as he, and dropped to the floor immediately, kneeling at his feet and pushing the hem of his sweater up so you could fumble with his studded belt, slavering for the taste of him on your tongue.

How had you lived a whole week without his touch? In this moment, you didn’t know, and your hands trembled, with adrenaline and pure, unadulterated desire, as you unclasped his belt, popped the button on his pants, and finally slid his zipper down, your tongue sweeping across your lips hungrily as the sight of his cock was bared to you at last.

Before his heat, Papyrus had already been of considerable size, average thickness but incredible length, but the call of his soul to perpetuate his line had bred a change in his magical anatomy; the slightly glowing, rusty orange, already dripping length of him was definitively thicker, and as you pulled him, with some difficulty, from his tight pants, you noticed that he now bore a new, knotted thickness at the base of his cock.

You wondered at the change, stroking your hand up and down your lover’s incredibly hard dick (you’d never felt him this stiff, this pent up and needy), but were too turned on and hungry for him to care at the moment, and pulled yourself further up on your knees to take the head of his cock into your mouth, stroking the flat of your tongue over the triple studs that decorated the underside and glorying in the shudder that shook your bony lover, having to raise a hand to steady him when his hips arched into the warmth of your mouth.

He groaned, loud and long, as you pushed more of him past your lips, sucking as well as you could at his thickness and bobbing your head to slick him with your wanton saliva and eager tongue; he moved one of his hands to the back of your head with a choked gasp, when you grasped at the unattended length you were incapable of reaching with your mouth, digging his claws into your hair and moaning licentiously in his pleasure.

“haahh… good g-girl…” he moaned, throwing his head back and thrusting shallowly against your hand and lips, and you whined in answer, increasing your efforts to pleasure him while, at the same moment, sinking your free hand between your spread thighs to plunge two fingers into your aching, throbbing core, fucking yourself and grinding your clit against your palm eagerly.

The scent of his pheromones was stronger, this close to his cock and in direct contact with his magic, and your pussy was drooling liquid lust down the insides of your legs without inhibition, your blood rushing in your veins and your whole body aflame, demanding attention and satisfaction.

The sound and scent of you pleasuring yourself while sucking his cock only served to excite Papyrus further, and the male standing over you growled rapturously, his bones crackling with his overabundance of magic and his hand tightening in your hair, fisting a handful masterfully, and his fangs dripping with his lascivious appetite.

His sockets blazed when he dropped his head to watch you work him in and out of your mouth, the claws he had braced on the wall digging in and scraping furrows in the paint and plaster.

“ _ fuck _ yeah… get that tight little pussy ready for me, ready for the dick you’re chokin’ on…” he encouraged rabidly, using his grip on your hair to pull you up and down his length even more quickly than you were, pushing you further onto him and making tears well in your eyes when the head of him bumped the back of your throat, his frenum piercings pressing into your tongue.

You relaxed yourself as much as you could, not wanting to ruin your shared fun with your terrible gag reflex while stroking his cock in time with your own thrusts into your entrance, and he noticed, grinning hungrily and pushing just a little further forwards, sliding into your throat with painstaking slowness and care.

“stars fuck me, i love it when you take me deep…” he moaned haggardly, halting when you patted his hipbone to signal your limit (you could usually handle more than this, normally capable of swallowing him down to around three fourths of his length, but his added thickness, saying nothing of the knotted magic at the base of his dick, were far too intimidating at the moment to even consider, much less attempt), and wrapped the strands of your hair he held around his fist, a sturdy rein that he immediately used to fuck your tight, clenching throat with.

You couldn’t breathe, while he circled his hips and thrust his cock into your warm, eager mouth, but you knew he was aware of that, took incredible pleasure in how long he rode your face, pushing your to your limit, and stroked your fingers into your entrance even more fastidiously, your juices slicking your hand so thickly that you dripped onto the carpet between your spread thighs and your pussy clenched around your fingers in your quickly surging end.

You came the same moment that Papyrus pulled his dick from your throat to allow you some air, and nearly choked on the pheromone heavy, sex saturated inhalation that you drew, shuddering on your knees and keening breathlessly and clutching at his clothed femur, swept away by intense, overpowering pleasure.

It was, bar none, the best orgasm you had ever had, and even as it faded, lingering abnormally long and drawing out your ecstasy to indescribable heights, you hungered for another, and another, the need for completion and satisfaction and  _ him  _ roaring in your rushing blood.

You almost forgot that you had been occupied, before your climax, almost forgot that your monster lover stood over you, one hand wrapped around his length and the other stroking your hair as patiently as he could manage (even that was tinged with his obvious desperation, his fingers trembling and his cock dripping long, sticky strings of precum), but you returned your mouth to him the moment that you could, licking the drooling magic from him before working the length of him between your lips.

He was, if anything, more ravenous for his end than before, now that you had come for him, his pleasure and longing throbbing in his manifested, magical desire and his hips working almost mindlessly to sate his own building need. He leaned his forehead against the wall, panting and drooling thoughtlessly, so he could clutch your head in both hands, and thrust into your mouth with hapless desire, the round studs piercing through the underside of his cock rolling along your tongue as both of you moaned and grunted and pawed at each other.

“you’re so fucking good…  _ shit _ … little more…” he groaned in a long, guttural utterance, his voice hitching and his thrusts shuddering and his fingers clenching in your hair, pulling to warn you of his approaching orgasm, and, with a rush of wicked intuition, you pulled back so only the head of his cock lingered in your mouth, pumped his length with devious intent, and sucked his sensitive tip the way you knew always got him off.

He choked on his surprised inhalation at your motion, his sockets widening and his jaw gaping in the sudden rush of pleasure, before his climax hit him like a tidal wave, his phalanges pulling you further onto his dick as he gushed thick, hot surges of magic into your mouth; you were quickly surprised by the sheer volume of it, easily ten times as much as he usually spilled into you.

A trickle escaped your lips, dripping down your chin to spatter onto your swollen breasts (you groped at them with your arousal stained hands, squirming in place), and Papyrus, his sockets drooping in his satiation, let out a warning growl, moving one hand to your chin to grasp your jaw.

“ _swallow_. you’re not gonna... ahhh... waste a drop of my cum,” he demanded breathily, tiny moans shaking their way free of his sharpened fangs and destroying his attempt at dominance, but though you wanted to laugh at his unstable voice, you liked the game he was playing, his continuance of his assertive role (it was making the heat roiling in your abdomen spike even higher), and so you did as you were told, swallowing down the almost too warm, too thick magic pumping into your mouth.

His smirk was pleased and satisfied, as he watched you obey his command, the tip of his tongue drooping between his fangs and his claws soothing as they carded through your hair dotingly, before, with one last, lazy thrust against your tongue, he released you to take a step back, his chest heaving and his magical gaze fuzzed with his pleasure.

Papyrus snapped his fingers at his cock, dismissing it (though the wicked edge to his grin promised that it was only for the moment) so he could lazily cinch his pants back together enough to walk, and motioned for you to stand, still gasping for breath and fighting back the burning flush that covered his cheekbones.

“up. we’re not done yet,” he commanded, his deep voice rough with, somehow, even more desperate lust than before (your core clenched, a needy whimper escaping you), and you scrambled up as quickly as you could, stumbling against the wall behind yourself when your knees failed you.

You let out a squeak of surprise when, a moment later, you found yourself airborne, bony forearms sliding behind your weak knees and your upper back to pull you up and against your lover's chest. The leather of his jacket was soft against your bare, sweaty skin, the fur on the ruff ticking your neck and cheeks, but your giggle was stifled when Papyrus, his smile shrinking into fondness and adoration, nuzzled his nasal ridge against your nose and pushed his fanged mouth against your lips.

You lost yourself in him for a moment, to the feeling of his large hands stroking over your flesh and your mouths moving together in sloppy, wet ardor (your tongues met, twisted, tangled together in harmony and chaos both, your breath heavy and your saliva mixing to become one), nearly so much that you didn't notice him walking you both up the stairs towards his bedroom, his still undone belt jingling with every step he took.

You were only drawn from your preoccupation, your indulgent, delirious kissing, when he carried you past his brother's room, the same sounds of restrained but desperate hunger resounding from within that had drawn your attention a week before. You clutched at Papyrus' sweater when a crash, a feral howl, and the jangling of chains rang out, leaning around his broad shoulders to look at the back of Sans' bedroom door.

“Papy… is Sans okay? He hasn’t come out of his room the whole week… shouldn’t he be with Frisk?” you whispered, wiping at the trails of saliva that lingered around your lips, and Papyrus, arching a brow, sent a casual look over his shoulder as well, calculating and brief, before shrugging and continuing down the narrow hallway to his own bedroom.

“don’t worry about him, he’s fine. this is how he always spends his heats. some bullshit about being stronger than his instincts… he sent frisk on vacation to hawaii with some of her friends while he handles himself. won’t risk hurting her,” he explained shortly, shifting you in his grasp so he could feel through his front pocket for his ring of keys, and you furrowed your brows, understanding why Sans would do such a thing for the fragile, fair tempered human that he was mated to.

Frisk was a quiet, loving girl, and adored her skeletal soul mate without quarter; it was clear that Sans felt the same for her, the hard, unforgiving monster turning into an indulgent, romantic fool when in her presence. Frisk was also sickly and weak, though, from her reincarnation into the world of the living, and alongside being painfully shy and incredibly self-conscious, was likely to come to harm if a too harsh wind blew while she was outside.

This resulted in Sans being almost ridiculously overprotective of his beloved, treating her as though she was made of glass and protecting her from anything and everything that would do her harm... apparently including himself. It was commendable, that he would work so hard, put himself through the pain that you had seen in Papyrus' face, for the girl.

Speaking of...

You drew your gaze away from Sans' door and turned it back to your own skeletal lover, his bony brows scrunched in concentration as he looked through his key ring for the one that would let him into his bedroom. You looked over the dried sweat on his bones, the lines of anxiety and agony still dug into the living ivory of his structure, the tired, restless circles under his glowing eye sockets.

You were nowhere near as fragile as Frisk was, and he knew that. He must have been truly, mortally afraid of hurting you to try to avoid sating his kind's need for copulation for so long. Was he used to doing that? You had a feeling that he wasn't, but...

“Did you... have you ever held off like you tried to before? It looks like it hurts...” you queried as he finally found the key he was looking for, his tongue poking between his fangs in his concentration as he fed it into his doorknob, and he let out an amused chuckle, glancing down at you and shaking his head.

“ha… me? no. i like to fuck too much to suffer like that. had a bunch of women i don’t even remember, whoever i could find to pass the season with. i held out  _ this _ time for you, first time i ever tried. don’t know how my bro does it…” he lamented, making a face and shuddering, his arm tightening around your legs and his voice, though layered with mystified fatigue, soft and fond, and you smiled up at the monster, your heart throbbing in your chest and your face warming and your eyes watering.

Papyrus looked tough, with his leathers and chains, his fangs and claws and intimidating height, but moments like these reminded you of exactly why you loved him, how sweet he was and how, even misguided, he cared about you to the extent that he tried, for the first time in his life, to resist his instincts.

You reached up to kiss his jaw, lingering and slow, wrapping your arms around his vertebrae and pressing your body to his chest affectionately.

“Well. You don’t have to do that again. I’ll help you next time too,” you promised him in a whisper, sniffling quietly and trying to calm the beat of your love stricken heart, and once he had unlocked his door and let the both of you into his dark room (and hanging a sock over the outside doorknob, just in case; he made sure to do so, after the one time that Undyne had walked in on the two of you in the middle of a particularly kinky lovemaking session), he glanced down at you, his smile wry but doting.

He bent to kiss you again, bony lips rough but passionate against yours.

“you’re very sweet, sugar… but you’re gonna regret what you agreed too, believe me,” he promised you, regret touching the edge of his voice once he had broken from your lips, and you sighed, rolling your eyes and giving him an exasperated look.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” you affirmed, wriggling out of his arms to pick your way across his messy floor and seat yourself on the edge of his unmade bed determinedly, and he followed you with an expression of patient expectation on his face, shrugging out of his jacket and kicking off his boots as he walked.

“hmph. we’ll see,” he grumbled, though his heated look at your body, through the darkness of the room, skewed his grumpiness (monsters weren't inhibited by the dark the same way humans were, after living in a cave system underground for fifteen hundred years), and you waited extremely impatiently for him to finish undressing, only keeping from starting without him because he growled, as he was pulling his sweater over his head, at you not to.

Finally, after a frustratingly long moment of him struggling to get his pants off (he very nearly ripped the damn things to pieces in his hindrance), Papyrus was just as bare as you, his heavy, glowing cock again manifested, sending a deep rust candescence over his pelvis and rib cage, and his gaze, shining brightly in the pressing darkness, pinned to where you sat squirming on the edge of his bed.

He grasped at his dick as he stepped up between your legs, stroking his hand along its length and looking on you with something so predatory and starving in his smirk that you moaned aloud at just the brush of his femur to your thigh, and he chuckled at the desperate noise, reaching out his free hand to drag the back of his knuckles down your jawline.

His more occupied hand sunk to the base of his cock, his thumb smoothing over the knotted, intimidating mass there.

“so… in case you didn’t notice… my heat has changed a few things. makes my dick a little harder to swallow, heh… but each time i have you, we’re gonna be connected for awhile. it’s supposed to make sure that my magic stays in you long enough for your body to absorb it… to ensure breeding success,” he explained, looking at you with an apologetic grimace, and you felt a shiver, both hot and cold at once, run down your spine, your eyes lowering to his thick erection.

He... he was going to push _that_ into you? You assumed it wasn't going to hurt, since it seemed to be normal... but even that was less worrisome than his inference that he was going to impregnate you.

You were far from ready for that. You were still trying to grasp being bound to the monster, for your souls to be a match or you being destined for each other or something like that (he had tried to explain it to you, after your first time together had turned into far more than either of you could have anticipated, but it was all very complex and magical), and though you loved him and fully intended to, one day, welcome children into the world with him, it definitely wasn't on your to do list for the near future.

Maybe you _had_ gotten yourself in too deep...

“Papy… I mean, I know I volunteered for this, but… you’re not going to get me pregnant, are you? I’m not really ready, not yet…” you muttered once you had found your voice, your shoulders dropping and your chin lowering in your awkward denial, and Papyrus, surprisingly, just let out a dismissive snort and held out a large hand to you, indicating that you should give him yours in return.

You did so cautiously, looking up at him in confusion, and he pulled you up with his hold on your hand, gently tugging you forward so you were pressed, bone to flesh, against his front, one hand smoothing up your back to brush your hair to the side and the other descending to alight on your hip, gliding over your plush skin lovingly.

He bent to nuzzle against your bare shoulder, against the old, scarred imprint of his fangs in your flesh, humming so deeply and fondly that you could only compare the sound to a purr.

“no, sugar… we haven't bonded souls yet. it's impossible for me to knock you up right now,” he reassured you, calm and serene and worshiping your body with light, bare touches... before you felt him smirk against your flesh, and felt him thrust his hips forwards, the bared, slick length of his cock gliding along your lower stomach.

His hands both dropped to cup your ass, and one of his femurs inserted itself between your thighs to rub against your dripping, eager folds; nothing, neither preparation or shame, could have held back the moan that tore from your lips, your hands jumping up to hook into his ribs and your head falling back in shocked stimulation.

Papyrus, overtly pleased with himself, lifted his head from your shoulder to grin at you with lust blazing an inferno of passion and conquest in his sockets, bending forward to lap his tongue across your gaping lips tantalizingly, teasingly.

“doesn’t mean i’m not gonna fuck your greedy little pussy full of enough cum to have you leaking my magic for a week after we’re done,” he promised in a husky, licentious rumble, gleeful anticipation washing over his face at your response to his motions (you arched against him needily, grinding against the leg between yours and chasing his bony lips with your wet, panting pair), before he turned you around in his arms slowly, dragging his nasal ridge across your shoulders and breathing puffs of hot, humid air across your skin.

Once you stood with your back to him, his rib cage pressing indents into your spine and his hands propped, massaging and gentle, on your hips, he raised his mouth to one of your ears, tracing the lobe with a sparkling golden canine.

“bend over the edge, baby… it’ll be easier like this, the first time,” he commanded in a whisper, bucking his hips against your backside in emphasis, and you couldn't obey quickly enough, falling to your forearms on the top of the mattress while keeping your feet on the floor, raised on your tip toes to display yourself, wanton and dripping with desire, to the monster awaiting your compliance.

You were so ready for him, awash in the scent of his pheromones and lost to your need to be filled... you could barely remember what you had been protesting a moment before, with the feeling of his gaze on your flushed, bared sex, the stroke of his hand over your flesh...

The spark and burn, both pleasure and obsession, of his magic parting your folds to push into your core, the stretch of his new thickness making your eyes widen in incredible sensation.

By the time he ended his first thrust, both his hands planted on the roundness of your waist and his thumbs dug into your ass to spread you for him, he was only around three fourths of his length inside you, the thick, knotted fixture at the base of him pressing against your folds; you, however, had never felt so full, so complete, and could hardly breathe around the moans you were already keening, adjusting your legs to accommodate his stature and give him room to work.

Papyrus attempted to give you time to adjust to him, stilling his hips as much as possible in his instinctual need to rut you into the mattress, but he couldn't seem to stop the small circulation of his pelvis, the tip of his cock bumping repeatedly against your cervix, and you in turn couldn't keep from thrusting back into him, your eyelids fluttering and your fingers digging into the rumpled comforter you were reclined on.

Your bony lover watched you before him with open mouthed, lewd satisfaction, chuckling beneath his breath and letting you pull yourself up and down his length; his magical gaze dropped to where you were connected, to the sight of his dick spreading your pussy wide and your juices slicking him as you thrust yourself on and off of him, his piercings dragging in and out of your entrance, the solidity and coolness of them contrasting with the heat and flexibility of his magic.

“you like that, don’tcha… getting your cunt stuffed this full… you can barely take it all…” he crooned at you, slipping one hand around your hip and between your legs to stroke your stretched out folds, your already swollen clit, encouraging you to fuck yourself on him even more rapaciously, and you moaned without restraint in response, stimulated tears dripping down your cheeks and one of your hands joining his in rubbing at your clit.

He took that as his answer, his saliva spattered grin sharpening ecstatically at your eagerness, and quickly made the executive decision that you had had long enough to adjust to him.

He braced his feet, dug his phalanges into your waist, and thrust himself into you with such wild abandon and fierce hunger that you instantly saw stars, pain mixing with pleasure into a cacophonous blend of screams, begging, and sobs of complete and total ecstasy. He rode you without quarter, pushing further into you with each rocking motion of his hips, and before you knew it your knees were shaking, quaking with the sheer force of his dominant aggression.

You collapsed onto your chest, crying out rapturously with each slam of his hips against yours, holding onto the edge of the mattress for dear life while Papyrus, completely lost to his need to rut, snarled gruff, salacious praise under his breath while he fucked you senseless, bent over your arched back and grasping at every inch of flesh that he could reach.

“such a tight, wet little pussy… shit, i’ve been dreaming of this, getting you on my cock again… and damn, wouldja look at you. you’re already a wreck, and we’ve barely begun. so fuckin'  _ **sexy** _ ...” he growled haplessly, his bed slamming into the wall each time he bucked against you.

You could only whimper in answer, struggling to keep your legs straight; it truly seemed like he was possessed by his heat, now that he had you under him, becoming anxious and frustrated whenever you sank down too far or moved so you could bear the power behind his desperate lust.

You ended up clambering onto the top of the bed, kneeling in prostration, so he could continue to ravage your quivering body, not stopping for a second while you adjusted yourself. He was intensely pleased by this, if you could tell anything from his approving rumble of gratification, propping one of his knees on the top of the bed, fisting a hand into your loose, already tangled hair, and sinking himself into you with new, fevered ardor, unattended drips of saliva wending their way down from his gaping fangs.

“yeah, baby,  _ fuck _ ... arch your hips… get that ass up for your  _ master _ ,” he prompted, his voice a base, coarse, thunderous thing, resonating through his sweaty bones and into your very core, and you nearly wailed in pleasure, his words and body both working you over the edge he had already rebuilt you to.

Papyrus rasped out a self satisfied, amused chuckle as you came down from your orgasmic high, groping at your ass roughly and rolling his hips up into you, rubbing his length against your most sensitive spot.

“mmm… listen to _that._ like that, do you? like being under my control? say it… tell me what i am to you,” he crooned softly, grinding his hips against you (the thickness at the base of his cock pressed at your entrance, as he did, spreading you nearly enough to allow him full entrance), and, still recovering from your climax, you whined in acquiescence, panting and trembling and, somehow, still wanting more.

How was he doing this to you? It was so much, _too_ much, but you were still starving for him...

“M-master… you’re my master… _Papyrus_ …” you murmured in a plaintive offering, your knees sliding forward on the comforter as his thrusts carried you further onto the bed; now you were both kneeling on top of the rumpled sheets, the mattress springs squeaking in protest of the pace your bony lover was keeping up.

Your answer did nothing but encourage the skeletal monster burying himself in your pussy, who smirked so savagely that his skull nearly split, his golden canines catching the light sneaking through a bent blade in his venetian blinds.

“such a good girl… so obedient… which makes me wonder…” he praised, dragging his hand down your spine to trace the shape of your shoulder blades... before he grabbed you roughly by the back of the neck, shoved you face forward into the mattress, and bent over your back with an expression of livid choler on his face, his magic flaring brightly in his narrowed sockets.

“where you get off fucking disobeying me like you did tonight,” he snapped, his earlier disposition clearly not forgotten, and, turning your face so you could breath and look up at him both, you glanced up at him in confused, aroused fear, biting at your lower lip and trembling in travail and subservience.

He wasn't done, and snarled at you when you parted your lips to answer him; he reared his free hand back, rage twisting his face into incredible, terrible ire, to bring it down across your ass with punitive force, making you cry out in pleasure pain at his ferocity, only growing in volume when he struck you again, and again.

His sockets narrowed even further when you squirmed beneath his punishment, turned on against your will by his heavy handedness, and smacked your reddened ass once more before clenching his other hand around the back of your neck, his hips never stopping in their rotation, their instinctual goal of filling you with his magic.

“what a little fucking _skank_ you are, getting off on being punished for sneaking around behind my back and letting a filthy little human _touch_ you. you come back to _me_ , to my _bed_ , smelling like another _male,_ and then have the _gall_ to show pleasure?” he barked harshly, emphasizing his words with inhumanly hard thrusts against you, and this time, you made sure to bite back your arousal, mind hazed with lustful appreciation for his game.

You liked this, him being rougher with you... you hadn't even known he was capable of being like this. Had he been holding back on you, or was it just the heat? You were going to have to find out...

“I… I’m sorry… I won’t do it again, I’m _sorry_ …” you whimpered submissively, cowering playfully and drowning in the heat his play was giving rise to in your already rushing blood, and at your words, Papyrus forced himself into stillness, loosening his grip on your neck and looking down at you with concern.

“…tuba?” he asked cautiously, fearful reluctance in his gruff voice, and you looked up at him with alarm, blinking rapidly. Oh... oh, you must have scared him, made your part a little too convincing. Whoops.

You cracked a smile at him reassuringly, pushing your ass back into the cradle of his pelvis encouragingly and sinking yourself further onto his cock in the same motion.

“N-no… _more_ …” you moaned at him, eyelids drooping in pleasure and intrigue, and he inspected your face closely for a moment, clearly ready to pull away, before he grinned widely, satisfaction and hunger reemerging from his doubt.

His hand clenched around the back of your neck again, pressing you into the sheets, and his desperate, savage thrusts resumed, drips of precum and your own juices sluicing from you with the wet, sloppy sounds of flesh meeting bone to coat the insides of your thighs, bearing witness to your shared debauchery.

“heh… damn straight you won’t do it again. you're  _ mine _ . my little whore, my little…  fucking …  _ slut _ …” he hissed, tongue dripping from between his fangs and free hand clenching on your hip to pull you back into his motions, and you writhed under him, cast back into the furnace of desire and pleasure that you had been consumed by before.

You couldn't believe it, could barely grasp the fact that it was happening, but the heat of _another_ orgasm was already building in your abdomen, your inner walls fluttering around your lover's plunging cock in both aftershocks and the coming storm.

“Please… please, Papy… I’m  _ sorry _ …” you whimpered back at him as soon as you found the breath necessary to speak, your eyes rolling back in your head and your breath hitching in your chest and your legs shaking in sheer exertion, and Papyrus, hearing the way the air caught in your throat, smirked widely, deigning to help you along by sliding his hand down your side to rub circles around your clit, bending lower over you as he did.

“you will be. i’m gonna fuck you up, baby… i’m gonna cover you in my marks, so everyone knows that you belong to  _ me _ . i’m gonna fill you with so much magic that monsters miles away will be able to smell me in your blood, and even humans will be able to feel the strength of my claim. you’ll never forget again, and no one else will ever,  _ **ever** _ question it,” he whispered in fervent promise, a psuedo-threat that you knew was part of the game (he still beat himself up over the bite mark on your shoulder, an accident that he had never meant to make; he was definitely not going to mark you up any more than that), and you gasped, your body clamping down around his, his words and circling fingertips and ceaseless lust pushing you into yet another orgasm.

Your core milked at his dick, trying to pull him further in even as you shuddered and twitched and moaned wantonly beneath him, and the monster screwing you senseless let out a groan of his own at the feeling of you tightening around him yet again, his bony lids fluttering and his hips' motions growing erratic and short. He was getting close, breath haggard and magic sparking, and abandoned his hold on your hair and hip to anchor his hands on the bed over your shoulders, pressing his bare, sweat and saliva damp rib cage to your spine and grinding his pelvis against your backside.

“yeah, cum for me… show me how much you like being treated like a bitch in heat, a tool for my lust… maybe i  _ should _ breed you, just so you can be reminded, every fucking day, of who owns you and your body,” he panted in your ear, his smile a dagger's edge of hunger and cresting bliss against your hair, and though you were confident that he was still playing his game, that he wasn't serious, you still felt panic flare in chest, especially with the knotted length of him plying for purchase at your entrance more and more desperately.

“Papyrus,  _ no _ … you said…” you whimpered, twisting underneath him and trying to pull away from his jarring, intense thrusts, and your lover, freezing for a moment, sent you a sideways look before laughing softly, his expression lightening and his bony lips smooth and wet when he pressed them to yours, kissing you reassuringly.

“i’m not gonna, sweetheart... not yet. one day, when we're both ready, i'm gonna fuck a little monster into you, but not tonight,” he muttered against your lips, brushing his nasal cavity against the tip of your nose, then lowered one hand to your abdomen, pressing his palm to the soft flesh there.

His fanatically paced thrusts picked up again, the thick base of his cock pressing into your folds persistently, and he hushed your renewed moans with his tongue, twisting it around yours.

“’til that day, i’ll take this,” he groaned, his entire body jolting over yours, and gave three more hard, firm thrusts before the knotted magic that had been attempting to invade your core forced its way into you, spreading you so wide around it that you let out a keening, wild gasp at the sensation, saying nothing of the feeling of being filled far too much, your abdomen expanding slightly under his hand.

He seemed to have expected that, massaging the protrusion soothingly, but he didn't have much attention to spare your discomfort at the moment, as he was occupied with the most jarring, intense orgasm you had ever seen _anyone_ have, much less him, his forehead falling against the mattress and his jaws gaping around unrestrained, bone rattling cries of incredible pleasure and satisfaction.

His cock, filling every inch of you already, throbbed in his finishing, and you were flooded, the next moment, with a warmth so inviting and tingling that you immediately relaxed, after the abrupt, far too large insertion of him; you could feel his magic working its way into your womb, your body, your _soul_ , and felt another, far softer and more relaxing orgasm wash over you, coaxing his cum from him and leaking tiny, panting moans from your parted lips.

You both knelt together like that for an unknowable time, locked at the waist and shuddering in bliss as one while he pumped you full of soothing, heady magic, before, with a tired groan and a long, lingering kiss pressed to your mouth, Papyrus flopped onto his side, pulling you down with him to lay, with your back to his chest and your legs tangled together, on top of the crumpled, cool sheets, his breath hot on the back of your neck and his hands massaging your slightly expanded abdomen affectionately.

You nuzzled back into his shoulders, caught up in the afterglow of an incredible bout of sex (he hadn't been kidding, you definitely couldn't have managed ten or more rounds of _that_ every day for the next week), before feeling his cock, still lodged inside you, pulse _again_ , spilling even more magic into your core.

It wasn't uncomfortable, not with the healing properties his cum had, but it reminded you of his warning before you had joined at all, and you shifted slightly, in your lover's embrace, testing his connection to your body.

His length twisted within you, pulling a surprised, shaky moan from you, but didn't pull out even a little bit, solidifying his claim. With a sigh, you flopped back against the skeleton monster's chest, allowing him to replace his hands on your skin.

At your sigh, he cracked a languid, sleepy socket to look at you, raising his head to press a kiss to your cheek and smoothing his palm over the slightly glowing protrusion of your abdomen.

“sorry, honey. i told you we’d be like this for awhile,” he rumbled, apology clear in his voice, and reached over you to his bedside table, sliding the top drawer open and pulling two items from within: a snack bar that you recognized as monster food, and a pair of handcuffs.

Papyrus handed the snack bar to you, with a quiet instruction to eat it (“i know that was pretty rough, baby.”) before snapping one of the cuffs around his wrist, rounding one of the bars of his headboard before securing the other around his opposite wrist.

He pulled on them to test their strength, nodding sleepily when they held secure, then looked back at you, noticing that you hadn't started on your bar and were instead watching him curiously.

He smirked, tugging on his restraints and showing that he could no longer reach you.

“to make sure i behave myself once i wake up. you're likely gonna sleep longer than i am, and i don't wanna risk losing control,” he reminded you, his bony eyelids again drifting as he spoke, and you nodded before unwrapping the snack he had given you, whining in the back of your throat when another gush of cum leaked into you.

He was already snoring by the time you got the bar unwrapped, and you glanced over your shoulder at him, your expression soft and doting.

It was going to be a long week... but Papyrus was worth it.

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading, drop me a line if you feel like it, and seeya next time! Next update should be a full sized Dalliance post!


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